Chapter 2
Chapter Two
SUTTON
The apartment smells like someone else's life.
That's the first thing I noticed when I moved in three days ago.
Someone who really loved garlic and onions.
The walls stank. The place was cheap, and apparently, the landlord didn’t think there needed to be paint jobs in between for student housing.
The building was privately owned, but the school leased it to help with overflow.
Lucky me, the poor sap who lived here lost their scholarship and had to leave school.
That’s what the building was. The poor kids were all shoved in here. The cleaning and cooking staff were also housed in the small building. It was just another reminder of our place in Avalon.
The building is probably as old as the town, and only minimal updates have been made. The heat is from one of those wall radiator things that gurgles and hisses. The hardwood floors look like the Grand Canyon, and the walls are covered in ugly green paint.
I bought a candle from the drugstore on the corner, the kind that claims to smell like clean linen, which it doesn't. It smells like clean linen, the way an air freshener shaped like a pine tree smells like a forest. There isn’t enough Febreze in the world to kill the garlic and onion smell.
Which isn’t bad normally, but it smells rancid.
The apartment is small. It has one bedroom, one bathroom, and a kitchen that is basically just a wall of the living room with a counter dividing them. The window above the sink looks out at the side of another building.
But complaining doesn’t make it better. That’s what my dad always says.
And he’s right.
I only have to be here for five months. In five months, I’ll graduate and leave Avalon behind.
Just that thought nearly has me bursting into tears. I’m not just leaving behind a pretentious town and the grueling classwork—I’m leaving him.
I quickly delve into my usual pick-me-up speech.
“It’s for the best. He’s going to be fine. You’re fine. You’ll both be happy.”
Bullshit.
My phone screen lights up.
Declan.
I watch it—four rings, then darkness. I exhale.
Thirty seconds later, it lights up again.
I turn it face down on the counter.
I know he’s home. I’m not even going to pretend I hadn’t been counting down the minutes until he got home and discovered I was gone.
I know this is cruel. I know that, right now, he's standing in the house and confused.
And hurt. He's calling me because confusion is what you do when someone disappears without an explanation.
I owe him an explanation. I know I owe him that.
I've known it since the moment I loaded the last box into my car and drove away without leaving a note.
I planned to call him like an adult and tell him I was moving out.
But I couldn’t do it. I’ve been pretending everything is fine because I didn’t want him distracted while he was supposed to be focusing on his future.
He’s called a few times. Sent a text, but I didn’t read it.
I open my Notes app and start typing a response. Words matter. I need to make sure I send the right message. I love him. I don’t want to hurt him anymore than I already have.
I should have told you before you left. I'm sorry for the way I did this. I moved out because—
I stop. Delete it.
I know you're confused. I'm not trying to hurt you. I just—
Delete.
I love you. That's the whole problem. I love you, and I can't hold you back.
I close the app.
The candle flickers on the counter. I stare at the bouncing flame and wonder what he’s doing right now. Is he angry? Maybe he’s relieved.
My phone buzzes once—another text.
I don't look at it.
Twenty minutes later, someone knocks on my door.
A shiver of panic rolls through me, and then I remember Declan doesn’t know where I live.
Keira is the only person who knows this address. I told her not to tell anyone. She hesitated. I know it puts her in a weird position with Crew, but I was her friend first. And she and Crew aren’t serious.
I unlock the deadbolt, chain, and handle, then open the door.
It’s not like Avalon is known for crime, but clearly someone had a bad experience and put the locks on the doors. I wasn’t taking any chances.
She walks in, looks around the apartment and sighs. She sets a bag from the good bakery three blocks from campus on the counter. Two coffees. A brown paper bag that smells like butter and yeast. It’s just enough to drown out the garlic.
"Croissants," she says. "The chocolate ones."
"You didn't have to do that."
"I know." She sits down on one of my two kitchen stools and wraps both hands around her coffee. "How are you doing?"
It isn't really a question.
"Fine," I say. "Good. Settling in." I look around at the apartment. The drugstore candle on the counter is working its hardest. "It's a good apartment. It's quiet."
"Sutton."
"It needs some stuff. A rug, maybe. The floors are kind of—worn."
"Sutton." Her voice is gentle, like she knows she’s going to hurt my feelings and is preemptively softening the blow.
"I'm not going to tell you that you made the wrong call.
But I'm also not going to sit here and tell you this is fine, because I don't think it is, and you know I'm terrible at lying. "
I take a sip of the coffee she brought me. It’s warm. My new apartment is a bit drafty, and we are in the midst of a cold snap. I need all the heat I can get. "I had to do it."
"I know you think that."
"I do think that. I thought about it for weeks, Keira. This isn't impulsive."
"I know it's not impulsive. That's almost what worries me more." She pulls a croissant from the bag and sets it in front of me. "Tell me the logic. Out loud. I want to hear it."
I stare at the croissant.
"He's good," I say finally. "You know that.
I've watched him every game this season.
He's good enough for the NHL." I tear off a piece of the croissant because I need something to do with my hands.
"Seattle wants him. His dad wants him to go.
And he'll go, or he should go, and if we're still doing whatever we've been doing, he'll factor me in.
He'll make the decision with me in mind, and he'll resent it eventually, or he won't go at all, and he'll resent that, and either way, I'm the variable that broke the equation. I know he thinks he doesn’t want to go pro, but I know otherwise. He needs to do this. Even if it’s only for a few years, he deserves to have this experience without anyone holding him back.
"He loves you."
"I know."
"He'd choose you."
"I know." I take another drink of coffee. "That's the part I can't let happen."
Keira is quiet for a moment. The radiator turns on, and we both wince. It’s a sound I am apparently going to be living with and will hopefully get used to very soon.
“I love Declan, but when I think about what my goals are, I know I wouldn’t give them up for him. So how is it fair to ask him to do the same thing for me?"
"It's different."
"It's not different. It's the exact same thing. I won't sacrifice mine, so I don't get to ask him to sacrifice his. I have to do this for me. I don’t want to resent him either." I look around the apartment. "This is what standing on my own two feet looks like. It's not pretty, but it's mine."
"Okay," she says quietly.
"Okay?"
"I'm not saying you're right. I'm saying I understand the logic. And I'm saying I'm worried about you." Her head tilts like one might do when looking at a sad creature on the side of the road. "And I'm saying his calls are going to keep coming, and at some point you have to pick up."
"I will. I just—" I breathe. "I need a few days to feel solid in this before I hear his voice."
"That's fair."
She stays for two hours. We eat both croissants, and she tells me about her semester plans and pretends not to notice when my phone lights up again on the counter. I pretend not to notice that she notices. It's just how it goes.
After she leaves, I grab my laptop to go over my new courses. I can’t believe I’m in the homestretch. It’s coming too fast and not fast enough.
I'm fine. I'm choosing my own life. This is what it looks like at the start. I can see the end, and that’s what I’m working toward.
The road is filled with potholes, but I just have to hold on tight and keep my eyes on the prize.
Maybe one day we’ll both be in a place where we can commit fully to each other. I know I will always love him.
I just can’t say he’ll feel the same way, especially after what I did.